


What Child is This?

by ladydeathfaerie



Series: A Midwinter Night's Dream [6]
Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas fic, Clint uses ASL, Feelstide 2014, M/M, Prompt Fic, no tuxes were harmed in the writing of this fic, the Avengers visit a children's hospital
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-02-27 02:43:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2675993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydeathfaerie/pseuds/ladydeathfaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are better things to do on Christmas Eve than attend a fund raiser for a children's hospital. Like visit sick children in a children's hospital. When a video of some of those children is shown, it touches off a rush of emotions that prompts Steve to convince his team to give the kids a Christmas they'll never forget. </p><p>
  <i>And then the camera turned its attention to a boy of maybe five, who looked so small and ill and fragile against his hospital bed. He stared at the camera with big, soulful brown eyes for several long moments, thumb stuck in his mouth. Eventually, a minute or so later, he tugged his thumb free and offered a tentative smile that showed he was missing teeth. "My name's Jimmy. All I want for Christmas is to meet Captain America. All I wanna be when I grow up is an Avenger." </i>
</p><p>
  <i>The boy fell silent. The sound of a chair scraping back over the wooden floor under their feet drew everyone's stare to the table Clint and his team sat at. He looked over to find Steve on his feet, jaw set in determination. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Child is This?

**Author's Note:**

> written for Feelstide 2014. the prompt was #19: "Everyone gets dressed up for a fancy party but leaves halfway through to go hang out at a children's hospital instead."
> 
> i swear it wasn't supposed to be this long. it just kind of exploded on me.

Clint cast a quick glance around the elegant ballroom before reaching up to tug at the bow tie he was wearing. Of course, the tie wasn't the only thing that felt too tight. The suit that he was wearing... Okay. It wasn't a suit. It was a goddamned tux and it had been tailored specifically to fit him after he'd informed Stark that he didn't have any dress clothes. One of Phil's fingers poked him rather sharply, dragging his attention away from his discomfort. "Stop pulling at your tie. People will begin to think that you have no manners or class." 

Of course Phil looked positively handsome and devastating in his own tux. Light caught on the satin material of the lapels, shone off the snowy white of his dress shirt. His own bow tie was tied perfectly and didn't seem to be bothering him at all. And of course he looked right at home among all of the gala's perfectly primped party goers. "We both know that I have neither one, so why am I pretending that I do?" 

He wasn't fast enough to avoid the pinch Phil gave him. And it was hard enough that he had to bite back the urge to admit that it hurt. "I will not have you speak so disparagingly of my future husband while in my presence. Kindly desist and I will stop tweaking that tender spot on your hip. I'd hate to wrinkle your suit. You look amazing in it." 

"Smooth talker," Clint grumbled. His hand fell away from his tie to hang limply at his side. He let his gaze slide around the vast room, automatically cataloguing each and every exit again. Seeking out places for possible villains to hide once more. Finding the best lines of sight yet another time. Remaining ever vigilant. "This damn thing is uncomfortable. How the hell am I supposed to deal with criminals in this if a fight breaks out?" 

"There will be no fighting tonight. Its Christmas Eve and all of the criminals are at home, opening their presents," Phil replied blandly. "The villains are doing the same. Everyone is getting new weapons with which to challenge the Avengers. Tomorrow will be a glut of Christmas shows and food and snacking. They won't attempt anything until at least after the New Year. Quit tugging on your suit and enjoy the party." 

Clint wanted to argue with him, but he knew it was a lost cause. Phil was never one to lose any kind of fight. Physical or verbal, it was all the same to him. So he heaved a sigh instead and tried to control the urge to check for the knife that wasn't there. His eyes made a now familiar circuit around the large ballroom yet another time. 

The cavernous area was filled to the brim with people in their finest clothing. The men were all in crisp black suits with snowy white shirts. Their ties were mostly black, but there was the occasional flash of color. Gold watches and rings flared under the mellow light of the chandeliers above their heads. Women were adorned in gowns that billowed or clung. Said gowns came in every color of the rainbow from the purest of white to the darkest of black. Diamonds and other precious gems glittered at bared throats, upon exposed wrists. They winked off earlobes left visible by stylish up dos. 

There room was awash in sound. An elegant orchestra played at one end of the room, the soft strains of some concerto or another playing and ignored as the party goers chattered loudly. The faint clink of glass against glass, of fine silverware against china plates, was barely audible over the rest of the noise. It was one hell of a shindig and Clint felt distinctly out of place. 

"Why are we here again?" he asked quietly.

"The Maria Stark Foundation is raising money for the children's hospital. Since Stark Industries started the Maria Stark Foundation, Tony Stark is expected to be here. And because Tony Stark is an opportunistic bastard, he insisted that having the Avengers here would help convince people to loosen their purse strings and give until it hurts." Phil sounded like he didn't believe that would happen. 

"What are we supposed to do? Scare them into giving money?" Clint asked. His gaze easily found Bruce Banner, surrounded by a group of men and women who were listening to him as he spoke. "If that's the case, Bruce is overdressed." 

"The Avengers are high profile, Clint. You know that," Phil explained quietly. Unfortunately, Clint did. And he understood the advantage that the Maria Stark Foundation got from having such high profile individuals attend one of its functions. The requests that came in, asking for the Avengers to attend some opening or function or soirée, were off the charts. They were a hot commodity all over the world. And he knew that the Maria Stark Foundation did some very worthwhile things. But knowing that didn't lessen the fact that he just plain felt self-conscious wearing such an expensive suit in front of people with whom he had absolutely nothing in common.

He allowed himself a moment to seek out each of his teammates, his new family, and mark their position. Thor was easy to see, his blonde hair shining in the overhead lights. He was laughing at something someone had said to him, eyes crinkled at the corners with his joy. He wore a tux just like everyone else, but it did nothing to help him blend into the crowd gathered around him. Clint could see Jane Foster at his side, her hair swept up in a simple style that looked complex and elegant. Her evening gown was dark blue and uncomplicated, much like she was. She looked as if she was glowing. And her face was animated as she discussed some topic close to her heart with those people gathered around them. 

Steve was deep in conversation with a group of men, his face set in lines of seriousness. Clint was sure that their topic was nothing good because Steve's shoulders were drawn and tight. One thing he'd learned about Steve Rogers was that the serum they'd used to enhance his body wasn't the thing that made him Captain America. It was the idea that there was right and good in the world, that pushing people around was wrong and there were times when you just had to stand up for the little guy. Steve wasn't a politician by any stretch of the imagination, but he was born leader. Clint had a notion that those men talking to Steve didn't really know who they were talking to. He was also pretty sure they were going to find out.

Bruce was with only a few people, most of them giving off the appearance of being as uncomfortable in their dress clothes as he was. But they were obviously discussing a topic with which Bruce was intimately familiar, because there was a look of intense passion on his face. His shoulders were relaxed, his hands hanging limply at his sides. He was obviously comfortable with both the talk and his companions, something for which everyone should be grateful. The man was good at holding in his temper, but Clint didn't want to see what would happen if Bruce lost it in this crowd. 

Natasha appeared to be holding court, the table she was sitting at surrounded by all of the best and brightest of the upper crust crowd. Clint could see the crimson brilliance of her hair as she turned her head from side to side, dividing her attention between the half dozen young studs trying to tempt her to their sides and probably their beds. She played her role with an inherent grace that he admired, all feminine delight and gentleness despite her ability to break the neck of everyone in the room without breaking a sweat. The gown she'd chosen was form fitting with a halter styled top and floor length skirt with a single slit up one side. It was black as midnight, the only touch of color a glittering swirl of red at one hip. He didn't know what kind of pattern it was, but he did know that it was made of Swarovski crystal. She was a vision of loveliness in satin and as deadly as ever in spite of it. 

If Tasha appeared to be holding court, Stark truly was. He looked sleek and perfect. His hair had been styled neatly and both moustache and beard were trimmed. Clint had no doubt that the tux the man wore was worth more than both Clint and Phil's suits put together, but he wore it like it was one of his beat up band t-shirts and a pair of old jeans that had seen better days. There was an air around the man that said he was just as comfortable standing amongst the richest of the rich as he was working on cars or fighting off the slimy, gelatinous villain of the week. Pepper and Happy stood close by, comfortable in their roles as his right hand woman and body guard. Clint could see Tony's mouth going at a mile a minute. The people around him were listening, smiling, laughing, and generally kissing up to his ass like there was no tomorrow. Chances were good Tony was talking them out of their socks and underwear for the sake of the charity. 

Why did Tony need them here when all he had to do was flash a smile and people would be falling over themselves to do his bidding? 

"Don't forget that Tony asked you all to be here as a favor to him. He doesn't ask for such things that often," Phil reminded him softly. A waiter passed by with a tray of drinks. He stopped and offered the tray to both of them but neither Clint nor Phil were champagne drinkers, so the waiter went on his way after a shake of their heads. Phil leaned close enough to Clint that their bodies touched. "You can hold it over his head in regard to our wedding. He'll owe you a good favor for showing up here when we both know you'd rather be at base scaring the new recruits." 

"Its Christmas Eve, Phil. I'd rather be at home with you, settled in front of our Christmas tree. You go back to work in a few days and we haven't had any time to ourselves since the night you proposed." 

"My vacation isn't up yet, Clint." The reminder came in a voice that was soft and husky with intention. Clint suppressed a shudder and turned to pin Phil with a look. It promised him that Clint would take him up on that intent later. Phil nudged him with a hip. "I'll make this up to you. I promise." 

"Why don't we go find a broom closet and you can get a head start on making it up to me?" Clint asked, cocky grin making its first appearance since they'd arrived at the hotel hosting the gala event. Phil shot him a look that said far better than words that he wasn't even going to consider the suggestion. "Party pooper." 

"You're supposed to be in attendance. Avenger," Phil replied. 

"No one knows who I am. I'm always the eyes up high," Clint said, shoulders lifting in a shrug. His eyes slid around the room once more. He let them come to rest on Stark again, who had been joined by Steve. Bruce was making his way toward them. "It doesn't matter if I'm at this thing. I'm not the important one here."

Phil pinched him again, hard enough to leave a bruise behind. "There you go disparaging my future husband some more. Keep that up and I'm going to have to show you what happens when people say horrible things about the man I love."

The tone of Phil's voice said he was displeased with Clint's casual disregard of his own importance, but that was nothing new. It was an old argument, one they'd had frequently, and Clint was sure Phil was biased where he was concerned. Truth was, he'd accepted that he wasn't the main face of the Avengers. He wasn't the important one. Tony and Steve were the ones people saw most, the ones people looked up to. And Clint was really okay with that. Which made being present at this fund raising party seem odd. No one recognized him as an Avenger.

He was in the process of trying to find the right words to explain his meaning to Phil when Pepper stepped up beside them. She was smiling broadly, a drink held carefully in one manicured hand. "Its time for the speeches to start. Tony would like you to join him at the table. Unified front and all that," she told them. Before Clint knew what was happening, she was between the two of them, her arms hooked around theirs so that it appeared they were escorting her to the main table. Tony, Bruce, and Steve were already seated. A quick glance over Clint's shoulder showed Natasha and Happy behind them. Happy was escorting Natasha toward the table.

The table he was seated at with the rest of his team, Phil, Pepper, and Happy was a large one, set front and center of the room. They were faced toward a raised dais, adorned simply with a podium positioned slightly off to one side. The back wall was a video screen of considerable size, suggesting they were going to end up watching some kind of film before the night was out. The wait staff appeared suddenly and silently, taking plates around to each table with such efficiency that Clint was sure Phil was considering suggesting whatever firm they worked for be used at the base commissary.

Even as the plates were being passed out, an older woman in a smart pantsuit and a faintly sloppy hairstyle stepped up onto the dais. Any chatter going on around him fell silent as she approached the podium with determined steps. The woman took her place behind the podium and graced them with a faintly brittle smile. She waited patiently as the last remaining bits of chatter gradually died down to little more than the sound of silverware clinking against china. There was a seriousness to her face that saw Clint's belly deciding that dinner was no longer important. 

"Good evening, everyone," the woman said brightly. Her voice was strong and steady, forcing Clint to mentally adjust his opinion about her age. She was younger than she looked, but time and stress had obviously been unkind to her. "My name is Shelly Harris and I'm a doctor at New York-Presbyterian Morgan Stanley-Komansky Children's Hospital. As the name suggests, I work with children. More specifically, I work with children with cancer. And I'm here tonight to ask you all for a huge favor." 

She paused, her hands shifting against the podium in a fluttery movement that gave away her nervousness. A few moments passed by, during which time her words were allowed to sink in and make an impact. When she spoke again, there was a hitch in her voice. She was obviously speaking about a topic close to her heart. "Thousands of children are diagnosed with cancer every year. If they're lucky, they can afford the care of a hospital like mine, one of the best in the country." She left off the part about the unlucky ones. Not that it mattered. Her words were designed to make the most effective impact on the gathered mass of possible donors. "But we didn't get to be one of the best without the help of our donors or the cutting edge medical equipment used to help aid in treating these beautiful children. 

"Which brings us to why we're here tonight. I don't believe in long and lengthy speeches. I don't think they serve any purpose. Not when the ultimate goal is to try and convince you good people to open your hearts and your checkbooks. And the sad truth is that we need you to do just that. We're in need of some new equipment. Not just in the Oncology department, but universally across the whole hospital." She paused and let her gaze skim the room, made it appear as if she was connecting with each person present individually. It was a good tactic because people responded better if they believed that someone was speaking directly to them. Even if they knew subconsciously that the good doctor really wasn't do that. "I could stand here and talk at you all night about statistics and a whole bunch of things that really wouldn't make a difference at the end of the night. I'm not going to do that, though." 

The chandeliers dimmed overhead, casting the room into shadows. A bright light flickered across the screen at the back of the stage and resolved itself into the smiling face of a young child in possession of cherub cheeks and absolutely no hair. Clint groaned softly and pushed his plate away. "I'm going to let the children who so desperately need your help speak for me."

Music swelled, something instrumental, and played as the images faded from one smiling face to the next. Some of the children had hair. Some didn't. Some bore scars from surgery. Some were pale and thin. Some were connected to far too many machines. Some were surrounded by stuffed animals and toys. Some had hand drawn pictures pinned to their walls. Some had nothing. Some eyes were filled with determination and the will to survive. Some eyes lacked hope. 

The montage stopped and centered on a young boy, no more than seven, who had no hair and a tight smile. His voice, when it came, was still high and it was a little faint and weak. "My name is Andrew and I'm sick," he announced. "I want to get well enough to play football and soccer. And I want to go home so I can see my mommy and daddy. I wouldn't even mind being able to see my stinky baby sister."

The boy's voice faded along with the image and they found themselves watching another montage. This time, it was focused on the same little boy. They showed him doing normal things like feeding himself and playing with a few Hot Wheels cars. There were shots of him standing at his bathroom sink to brush his teeth and wash his face, his arms far too thin. And there were shots of him looking ill, obviously in the middle of chemotherapy, with tears slipping silently down his face. He was doing his best to remain stoic and act like a grown up. 

After the shifting scenes stopped, the boy was shown sitting at a table, looking idly at a book. His gaze kept straying to the window to his left, sun streaming brightly through it to paint the playroom in golden yellow light. His voice held a note of frustration and envy as he spoke at length about his favorite football teams and the position he'd like to play when he finally got better. It wasn't hard to hear the fading hope in his words. 

When Andrew was done, they moved on to a child who introduced herself as Coral, a vibrant little girl with faint wisps of hair still clinging to her head. She didn't seem to care that her hair was falling out. In fact, she didn't act like she was sick. She talked about the dolls waiting for her at home and told them that her favorite color was pink. She liked to listen to music and she wanted to play piano. She also wanted to be a ballerina.

The entire room watched as the video shifted its focus from one child to the next. There were boys and girls of all ages. Some were in their early teens while some where babies. They were all colors and races. Some had their hair, some were balding, some had no hair at all. Some wore wigs made especially for their little heads. Some of them looked healthy while others seemed to be wasting away. All of them wore smiles for the camera. Some smiles were wide and bright and filled with joy. Some were thin and brittle and just painful to look at.

The names blurred after a few of them had spoken. They were all normal little kids who just wanted a chance to have a life. They wanted to be athletes and doctors and actors and actresses and writers and singers and artists. They wanted to grow up and grow old. They wanted husbands and wives and families. They just wanted to be. And it was all so heartbreaking. 

And then the camera turned its attention to a boy of maybe five, who looked so small and ill and fragile against his hospital bed. He stared at the camera with big, soulful brown eyes for several long moments, thumb stuck in his mouth. Eventually, a minute or so later, he tugged his thumb free and offered a tentative smile that showed he was missing teeth. "My name's Jimmy. All I want for Christmas is to meet Captain America. All I wanna be when I grow up is an Avenger." 

The boy fell silent. The sound of a chair scraping back over the wooden floor under their feet drew everyone's stare to the table Clint and his team sat at. He looked over to find Steve on his feet, jaw set in determination. Even from the light of the video playing, they looked a little moist. Blue eyes turned to look down the length of the table, pinning each of them with a stare, before he gave them his back and wordlessly headed toward the door. Clint didn't hesitate. He was up and following a second later. The room echoed as another chair was shoved back, then another and another. Clint counted ten, including his and Steve's.

A low murmur followed them as they left the banquet hall, each of them following Steve out into the hallway. By the time they passed through the doors, Steve had already untied his tie. Clint moved to lean against the wall as they waited for the others to join them, Phil close behind him. They stood together in silence and watched as the rest of their little group emerged into the hall. The last to come was Tony and the look on his face suggested he was pissed. "What the hell, Cap? What bug bit you on the ass?" he demanded in his typical, less-than-graceful way. "Do you know how rude--" 

"I don't care, Tony," Steve cut across him, voice cold with anger and some deeper, buried emotion. "I'm not going to sit in there anymore and listen to that. I can't. I'd rather go out and freeze all over again before subjecting myself to that circus again." 

"We're here to help raise money for the hospital so that you don't have to see those kids again," Tony prodded. The look Steve gave him was dark enough to make even Stark pick his words carefully. "If we go back in there and smile and shake more hands, maybe we can raise enough money that you won't have to see those children in the hospital anymore."

"If it isn't those children, it'll be other children. There will always be other children to take their place. That's the way the world works," Steve replied quietly. Tony opened his mouth to say something else, but closed it quickly enough when Steve folded his arms over his chest. "I'm not going to go back in there and fake a smile to make those people do something they shouldn't have to be pressured into doing. Its their responsibility to take care of those who can't take care of themselves. They've got more than enough money."

Tony saw the jab and he took it. With a wince. He sighed and shook his head, lifted his arms out at his sides in a gesture that suggested he didn't know what he was supposed to do. "What do you want from me, Steve? That's the purpose of the foundation. To collect donations and disperse them appropriately. I give money myself. Every year. What else is there? If we don't go back in, the donors will keep their checkbooks closed." 

"I don't care what you do, Tony. But its Christmas Eve and I'd much rather spend my evening in the hospital with those kids than here with these people who don't understand what its like to wonder if you'll get a chance to see another dawn." Steve's voice was soft and it held a definite note of finality to it. There was no way anyone was going to talk him back into that room again. For the first time in a long time, Tony was left searching for something to say. 

"I'm kind of with you on that one, Steve," Clint commented, drawing curious expressions his way. He shot a glance toward Phil, who responded with a twitch of his lips. His way of saying he would back whatever Clint wanted to do. Clint gave him a smile and pushed away from the wall, walked over to where Steve and Tony faced off. "These kids need more than money at Christmas, Tony. They need to see that people care. People who aren't their doctors and their families. They need to know that people who don't know them care about what's happening to them. Money can buy the necessary equipment or medications for them, but it doesn't care. Not the way people do. Kids don't care about money."

"You know that this isn't the most comfortable place for me to be," Bruce added softly. "It might be nice to go spend our time with kids who need a friendly face. Its much better than fighting the latest threat." 

Tony's gaze slide between Steve, Bruce, and Clint. It was obvious from his expression what he thought about that. But before he could open his mouth and put his foot in it, Pepper stepped forward. She laid her hand on his arm, bringing his attention to her. "I think going to the hospital is a very good idea, Tony. As cold as it is to put it in terms of business, it would be good P.R. for Stark Industries. And I think it would be far more enjoyable to see the bright faces of those kids than to stay here and try to convince these people to give their money to a cause that they shouldn't have to think about donating to."

"You really want to do this?" Tony asked, hesitation touching his voice. Mostly, though, he sounded resigned to the fact that they were going to visit sick kids in the hospital. Steve nodded, some of the tension leaking out of him. Clint shared a look with Phil before nodded his agreement, too. Tony's gaze slid to Natasha. "This isn't your usual type of mission. You up for it?" 

"Children do not scare me, Tony," she said crisply. Stark gave her a look that said he clearly didn't believe her. She merely returned his look with one of her own, one that suggested he call her a liar to her face. Tony remained silent. Clint hid his smile because he'd seen Tasha with children. She could appear as harmless as a newborn kitten if she needed to and kids had always taken a liking to her. "In fact, I'm sure I could deal with those children much better than you." 

Well, if that wasn't a sure fire way to get Tony Stark to go to a children's hospital, Clint didn't know what was. 

"Happy? Pep?" Tony turned toward the two of them. "Are you up for this?" 

"Whatever you want to do, boss," Happy agreed amiably. Tony nodded and looked to Pepper. 

"To be honest, Tony, I think it would be much more productive to visit those children than it would be to stay here," Pepper replied softly. "And maybe you'd enjoy it as much as the kids would." 

Tony let his glance slide around the group, leaving Thor until last. "What do you say, big guy? You and your lady up for a little visit with some sick children?"

"If it will put smiles upon their faces, it is a noble quest and I will happily visit the children," Thor said, his tone serious. He looked to Jane at his side and she nodded in answer to his silent question. Upon finding himself in the minority, Tony heaved a sigh and turned to look at Steve. 

"I guess we're going to visit the children." The smile Steve gave Tony was blinding.

**~*~**

Pepper had called ahead to let the hospital know that they were coming. She'd also requested that they keep the fact that the Avengers were arriving to meet with the children a secret so that it could be a surprise. And, yes. The Avengers were going to spend time with the children who had to be in the hospital on Christmas. That had been Phil's suggestion. When Tony had lifted a brow at Phil, the man had informed them all in a voice filled with kindness that it would create memories to last for a lifetime. Clint knew that Phil loved children as much as he loved his job. He just hid it from people very well.

So while Pepper had made arrangements with the hospital and had sent word to the gala that the Avengers had a pressing engagement, everyone had changed into their superhero gear. Well, everyone except Bruce. When Tony'd suggested that Bruce allow the Other Guy out, Pepper had almost stabbed him with her one of her Manolos. It had been Bruce who had said that taking the Other Guy to the hospital might end badly for everyone involved and that he'd just go back to the tower and play in his lab. Not surprisingly, it was Steve who'd nixed the idea by simply stating that Bruce was part of the team as much as the Other Guy. So Bruce had gotten to sit and wait while everyone had suited up.

They were greeted with smiles from the staff as they stepped out of the elevator. A representative of the staff stepped forward to greet them. "I'm Fiona Stevens and I can't tell you how pleased I am to have you all here! The children are going to just love it. We've got them assembled in the playroom, as per Miss Potts' instructions. If there's anything you need, please don't hesitate to let me know," the woman said as she took Steve's hand and shook it. She looked maybe a little star struck, eyes wide with awe. "This is so kind of you all. I'm sure you must all be terribly busy, so thank you so much for giving up your Christmas Eve to entertain our children. This will be a Christmas they'll never forget."

"We're happy to be here, Miss Stevens," Steve said, his voice filled with his usual honesty. She beamed a smile at him and then let her gaze slide over everyone else. Her smile grew wider as it took in each of them, but it faltered a little when it finally landed on Bruce and Phil. "This is Bruce Banner. He's part of our team. And the other gentleman is Phil Coulson. We've also brought Dr. Jane Foster, Happy Hogan, and Miss Pepper Potts with us. They're all associated with the Avengers." 

"Of course," the woman's smile bloomed again and she began shaking hands. "You're all very welcome here. We've got some refreshments set up to make it feel more festive. If there's anything you need, please... Oh, goodness. I've already said that, haven't I? I'm just a little shocked. Most people don't want to come spend their time with sick children on a normal day. Having real heroes here on Christmas Eve is enough to leave us a little scattered." 

"We're no heroes, ma'am," Steve replied, every word laced with all the sincerity he had. "You and your staff are the heroes. The kids who are fighting are the heroes. And we're honored to be here." 

The woman flushed at Steve's honest praise. "We're not heroes. We just want to help, the same as you do." She motioned toward a closed door on the other side of the large entry area into which the elevators opened. The walls were bright with primary colors and the furniture was plush and welcoming. It was a happy, inviting place to try and cover for the depressing reasons that brought the children there. "Shall we? The children will be so excited." 

"Lead the way," Steve nodded. He shifted the shield on his arm as Fiona Stevens turned and started across the tiled floor. Tony fell in behind him, his steps surprisingly light in the armor. Thor had Mjolnir in hand and his cape billowed slightly behind him as he walked. Natasha went next, clad in her S.H.I.E.L.D. issue cat suit. She had a pair of mock Widow's Bite bracelets on her wrists, used for publicity stunts so that there weren't any mishaps with the real ones. She'd left her firearms back at the tower without needing to be told. Clint only hoped she'd left any hidden weapons at home, as well. It would look horrible to have a pair of tiny hands pulling one of her blades from its hidden sheath. Clint saw the glint in Bruce's eyes and made sure the other man went before him, leaving Clint to bring up the team's rear. He sensed more than heard the rest of the little group fall in behind him. 

Their guide stopped at the door and glanced back at them for just a moment, then took hold of the door knob and turned. The moment the panel was opened a crack, a wave of cheery Christmas music and happy childish voices washed over everyone. Ms. Stevens pushed the door wide, stepped in and to the side. "Children! Quiet, please. I need you at your best behavior. I've got a surprise for you." 

The room went quiet for a few seconds. But then Steve stepped inside and the noise picked back up with extra volume. And each time one of them stepped into the room, the kids got louder and louder. By the time Clint had stepped foot into the playroom, it was so loud that he couldn't pick out one voice over another. The noise didn't diminish at all when the rest of their group came in behind him. 

A quick glance around the spacious area showed him that there was only one entrance into the playroom and it was located directly across from a large wall of tall, plate glass windows that gave the children an unobstructed view of a small courtyard below. During the day, there was no doubt lots of bright sunlight streaming through said windows. Now they framed the dark of night, a handful of street lights shining to illuminate the soft fall of thick snow drifting beyond the glass. The walls were painted with scenes of the fantastic in bright colors, the furniture child sized and comfortable, the carpeting decorated with nursery rhyme and story book figures. Toys filled the room, ranging from cars to dolls to stuffed animals to books and beyond. It looked like a perfect place for any child to laugh and play and be happy.

The kids kind of rushed forward to greet them, tiny bodies clamoring for an opportunity to meet the world renowned Avengers. Or at least the ones they recognized. There were crowds of tots around Steve, Tony, Thor, and Natasha. Bruce stood off to one side, looking uncomfortable in his tux, while his eyes slid carefully over every body in the room. Clint knew without having to ask that the man was seeing through the eyes of a doctor and a researcher, no doubt thinking about the work he'd been doing before being pulled in for the whole Avengers thing. Five minutes would have him talking to a doctor or nurse, trying to get a look at the children's files because he'd want to find a way to help them. As for himself, the children were eyeing him, but none had yet come up to Clint. 

"You're scowling," Phil said from behind him, voice a soft reprimand in his ear. Clint turned to look at him, question in his eyes. Phil chuckled softly. "You're scowling. You look like you've got a prickly pear stuck up your ass. Its scaring the children away."

"You know this is my resting face, Phil," Clint replied and tried to smooth his expression into something a little less terrifying. The last thing kids like this needed was anyone wearing a sour face. 

"Of course I do. I know you better than you know yourself. But those kids don't know that. Maybe if you smiled at them, one of them would come over and try to talk to you," Phil suggested. Clint had to stop himself from scowling all the harder at such obvious advice. 

"They're all about Steve and Tony. Probably Hulk," Clint said, gaze shifting from one teammate to the next. Tony and Steve were surrounded by a large chunk of kids, and Bruce was still next to a doctor or nurse, no doubt discussing illnesses and treatment options. A look at Natasha showed that she was speaking with a few brave little girls who obviously recognized the Black Widow. He wasn't really bitter about it. Clint didn't have any idea how to deal with kids. But he did feel a little out of place. "Its cool, Phil. Their smiles are more important than my ego." 

"And here I thought your ego was the most important thing in the world," Phil snarked teasingly. Clint jabbed at him with a bent elbow, but Phil deftly avoided the blow. It brought a remark to Clint's lips that wasn't meant to be spoken before children, but he was forced to swallow the comment when he felt a tug on his pant leg. Clint glanced down to find himself faced with a blue-eyed little girl with a purple bandana tied around her head. She offered him a shy smile. "Well, hello there, little one. What's your name?" Clint asked, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You're my favorite Avenger," she blurted out, hints of pink blooming on her cheeks. His smile broadened at the announcement, prompting him to squat down in front of her. She couldn't have been more than six, her thin frame wrapped up tightly against the chill in a fuzzy purple robe. A pair of matched slippers covered her feet. "And my name is Jessie."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Jessie. My name is Clint," he offered her his hand. She considered it for a few long moments with serious eyes, then her smile grew and she threw herself at him in order to deliver a hug. He caught her with gentle hands and let her wrap her arms around his throat, let her squeeze him with as much strength as she had in her little body. She was surprisingly strong for one so small and skinny. 

Her sudden affection was slightly disconcerting, but he hid that behind the warmth that her honest, childish hug brought to life under his skin. And, secretly, he basked in it. He let her hang there as long as she wanted, his big hands stroking lightly down her back. She eventually pulled back and stared at him with those wide blue eyes of hers. 

"I know. You're Hawkeye. You fight the bad guys with a bow and arrow. When I get older, I wanna learn how to fire a bow and arrow just like you," she admitted, her voice just a little shy. 

"You like the bow and arrow?" Clint asked her. She nodded her head eagerly in response. He was sure his smile was soft and mushy by then, but he didn't care. But if anyone tried to call him on it, he would put one in their ass for even bringing it up. "Well, then. I guess that means when you get older, and when you're feeling better, I will personally teach you how to shoot a bow and arrow," Clint told her. 

"Honest? You promise?" There was awe in her voice and her eyes, always wide, seemed to go wider still with disbelief.

"Honest," he nodded, voice solemn with sincerity. "I promise."

His promise was rewarded with another squeezing hug, the child molding herself to him as if she was ivy clinging to a trellis. The warmth her first hug had spread through him became a small fire burning under his skin. He let his gaze slide around the room to take in everything else that was happening. Everybody, even Bruce, was surrounded by smiling, laughing children. Despite being ill, they acted as if everything was normal. It was probably one of the best things Clint had ever done in his life. Gently, so very gently, he settled Jessie on her feet. "Why don't we go join everyone else?" 

"`Kay," she nodded, hooked her little hand in his, and tugged him after her. Clint shot Phil a look that asked him if he was coming along. Phil smiled and followed behind him. 

"Maybe I should take my ring back," he teased, voice quiet so no one would overhear him. "It looks like you've got yourself a girlfriend and I can't compete with that kind of cuteness."

Clint sighed. "Shut up, Phil."

Jessie pulled Clint into the large mass of bodies occupying the center of the room. Children of ages and sizes were clustered around Iron Man, Thor, and Captain America. Natasha still sat off to one side with a small group of little girls and a couple boys surrounding her. The smile she wore was soft and filled with a kind of peace Clint knew she rarely let herself feel. Secure in the knowledge that there wasn't a thing in the world that Natasha couldn't handle, Clint gave his attention back to the larger group of children and allowed himself to be pulled into the madness. 

There were tons of questions flying, high-pitched children's voices battling for dominance over the noise. Several boys were oohing and aahing over the sleek, red and gold lines of the Iron Man suit. Girls and boys were clustered around Steve, hands stroking the smooth surface of his shield or the material of his suit. Thor had settled down on the floor, legs crossed before him, while children attempted to heft Mjolnir from its spot on the floor beside him. A little girl wearing a headband topped by a pair of reindeer antlers was settled in behind Thor, working a braid into the length of his hair. He seemed to be enjoying the child's attention.

Clint felt Phil's eyes focused on his back as Jessie tugged him further into the group of children. Excitement levels were high and tiny people clamored to gain the adults' attention. Jessie drew Clint into the very center of a small cluster of kids, then pulled on his arm until he settled himself down on the floor. He found himself fully circled by Jessie's fellow patients and questions were being shot at him faster than he could fire his arrows. He tried to answer everyone, but he was barely able to start an answer before the next question came. 

Time melted away as Clint talked about how he learned to shoot a bow and arrow, and how he had ended up a member of the Avengers. The children listened raptly, each addition to his story bringing even more questions that he did his best to answer. 

He knew that Phil was standing at the perimeter, watching over everyone like some great mother hen, but it was something he was only peripherally aware of. All of his attention and focus was given to the kids crowded around him, eager to have him regale them with tales of his fights with the bad guys. Of course Clint made sure the stories were appropriate for children, leaving out the gory and super-violent parts. The children ate it up, smiles wide and eyes bright with excitement. 

He didn't realize that Jessie was no longer clinging to his arm until sometime later, when the staff had brought in milk and Christmas cookies for everyone and all of the children were quiet. A glance around showed her a few feet away, staring toward the corner of the room. There was a child in the corner, back touching both walls while he built a building-like structure with colorful blocks. The boy was meticulous about placing the blocks, dark head bent as he carefully stacked them one on top of another. When the structure was complete, he stared at it for a few moments, then swung an arm at it and violently demolished the building. Bricks went flying in all directions and the boy pushed himself deeper into the corner, arms crossed over his chest tightly. 

"Jessie? What's the matter?" he asked, shifting himself around until he was kneeling beside her. He could see the concern in her eyes that she didn't seem to have for herself. "Who's that?" 

"That's Pedro," she said softly. There was worry in her voice. "He doesn't like being here. He'd rather be at home with his mommy and daddy." 

"I think I can understand that. I'd want to be at home with my family on Christmas, too," he replied.

"Its got nothing to do with Christmas," she returned. Her tone said that it was more than being in the hospital on the holiday. She turned to look at Clint and the very grown up look on her face made his heart hurt. "Its hard for him 'cause he can't hear. The nurses are nice, but they don't talk with their hands. And Pedro don't have hearing aids. He don't have anyone to talk to." At the end, Jessie's fingers moved as if they were trying to form words or letters using American Sign Language. 

Clint frowned at that. A quick look around the room told him that every other kid and adult in the place was having a good time. It didn't appear as if anyone had noticed the solitary little boy hiding in the corner. "Well, let's go talk to him. Does Pedro like cookies and milk?" Clint asked, already heading toward the cart that had brought in the goodies. 

"I told you! He can't hear and he only talks with his hands!" Jessie told him, her tone sharp. 

Clint stopped and knelt down before her. "I heard you. Trust me, okay?"

Jessie's face was set in a mask of stubbornness. She'd copied Pedro's defiant posture, her little arms folded over her chest so that she gave off a strong look of disapproval. Clint didn't push, just gave her a chance to discover for herself that he was telling the truth. Finally, after quite a few tense seconds of silence, she gave a faint nod. "Okay." 

"Okay. Let's go get some milk and cookies. Then we'll go say hi to Pedro and see if we can't get him to talk to us." Clint rose to his feet and took hold of Jessie's hand. She tugged him toward the cart containing the cookies and those little cartons of milk that schools handed out with a sudden earnestness that was the absolute opposite of her behavior from just a few moments before. He let her pull him to the cart and he scooped up three cartons of milk while Jessie picked out a single cookie for each of them. 

Their haul in hand, Clint allowed Jessie to lead him toward the young boy in the corner. He was more than aware that Phil and Natasha knew his movements, that they knew where he was headed. He had no doubt both of them had both spied Pedro hiding in the corner. There was a spring in Jessie's step as she moved closer to Pedro, the same one she'd had when she'd dragged Clint into the madness. He wasn't sure if it was her natural personality or if it was a well-crafted cover to keep people from seeing the real Jessie. He wondered then and there just how sick Jessie was, made a mental note to visit her as often as he could.

Jessie stopped close enough to Pedro that Clint knew the boy could see her slippered feet even with his head down like it was. After a couple of seconds, she plopped down on the floor in a limp manner that seemed to belong solely to young children and put a reindeer-shaped cookie into Pedro's hands. "Hi, Pedro!" she said brightly, her hands fluttering through a few brief motions that he suspected were her attempt at ASL. The boy's head came up and his eyes narrowed on Clint before turning back to Jessie. Then Pedro's hands moved, fingers flowing rapidly through a curt reply. Clint saw Jessie's face fall a little, letting him know that she understood Pedro's tone even if she didn't catch everything he'd said. For a moment, Clint thought she might tear up, but she pushed her own feelings down and soldiered on. Her little hands worked as she made the effort to put her words into a version of sign that they both knew. "I brought a friend to talk to you." 

Pedro's mouth pulled down at that and his hands flew, cycling through a bunch of accusations and orders. Jessie looked like she would be unable to hold back the tears this time, so Clint squatted down and set the milk at his feet before letting his own fingers shape a gentle rebuke. Pedro mentally pulled up short and blinked at Clint for a few moments. Jessie sat beside him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open just a little bit. "You talk with your hands, too?" 

"I know how to do a lot of things," Clint told her without taking his attention away from Pedro. The boy was watching him, a mixture of disbelief and apprehension in his eyes. Then Clint took the time to introduce himself, making sure that he kept his signing slow and clean so that Pedro caught everything he said. 

"Did you know someone who couldn't hear?" Jessie asked, her gaze flicking back and forth between Clint's hands and Pedro's. Clint noted that Pedro took his attention from Clint long enough to glance at Jessie. It looked like the boy knew how to lip read because his eyes swung back to Clint, waiting for an answer. 

"I did," he answered, both aloud for Jessie and with his hands for Pedro. "Me. But that's a boring story. I want to know more about Pedro." 

That simple sentence, coupled with Clint's ability to converse with and understand the boy, seemed to be what was needed to bring Jessie's friend out of himself.

Pedro's fingers began flying, rushing between trying to tell Clint his life's story and asking questions the minute they came to him. A sense of rightness filled Clint and he settled in to sit on the floor, carrying on a conversation between the two children. Between himself and Pedro, they helped Jessie learn some of the more basic signs and they were both delighted to find that she had a natural ability to absorb it all like a sponge. Soon enough, she was capable of signing short, abrupt sentences and she could decipher a good deal of what he and Pedro talked about. It seemed like, in no time at all, Pedro was laughing and smiling. Clint laughed and smiled right along with him.

Time slipped away from him as he and Pedro exchanged question after question about each other. He found out that Pedro had been born without his hearing, same as his parents. He also found out that Pedro was in the hospital because he had been diagnosed with a pretty aggressive form of cancer. Despite the bravado the boy showed, he was very scared. Clint made sure to tell him that he thought Pedro was very brave and that he was Clint's hero. The smile that spread across Pedro's face at Clint's statement was the most beautiful thing Clint had seen all night. 

The three of them were deep into plotting the best way to deal with giant, radioactive salamanders when the doors to the playroom opened loudly, accompanied with a jolly "Ho ho ho!" that was louder than the doors. There was no need to sign to Pedro that they had a visitor because his gaze snapped to the entryway almost as soon as the doors opened. His fingers moved so rapidly that it took Clint a few seconds to realize that he was signing about Santa being there. Clint didn't need to prod to bring the boy to his feet and the three of them joined all the other children as they crowded around Santa.

Happy made a really good Santa, despite the fact that his white beard was slightly askew. His smiles were genuine and his 'ho ho hos' were filled with warmth. He carried a big red bag over his shoulder while a line of hospital staff stood behind him with more bags. A glance toward Tony showed Clint that Pepper was smiling at him, her mouth next to his ear so that she could speak to him without being overheard. For all that Tony Stark gave the impression of being an arrogant son of a bitch who cared for no one but himself, he was proving to be generous to a fault. 

Children split into two lines as Santa worked his way through them, heading toward a chair someone had thoughtfully placed beside the playroom's large, festively lit Christmas tree. When Santa put his bag on the ground beside the chair and took his seat, the children swarmed around him. They were smiling and talking over one another, trying to tell Santa what they wanted for Christmas. Santa reached down and carefully lifted up the closest child, a small boy wearing a baseball cap and a pale blue robe. Santa then asked the child his name and whether or not he'd been a good boy all year long. 

Frantic tugging at his hand drew Clint's attention to Pedro standing at his side. There was an anxious look on his face and worry in his eyes. As soon as he knew that Clint was looking at him, his hands started moving and he signed out the question that was plaguing him. _"Will Santa be able to understand me?"_

Clint squatted down so that he was on eye level with Pedro. He made sure his signing was slow enough that the boy wouldn't miss a word of it. _"If he doesn't, I'll translate for you. Sound good?"_ That earned Clint a nod and a smile. After Clint stood back up, Pedro slipped his hand into Clint's and held on tightly. On his other side, Jessie did the same. 

The line moved slowly as each child had a turn sitting on Santa's lap. Happy looked to be in his element, laughing and talking at length with each little boy or girl who sat in his lap. Everyone got to have their picture taken with Santa and received two gifts before being helped from his lap. The children chattered with one another excitedly, probably trying to guess what special surprise was hidden behind the shiny, brightly wrapped gifts. They were so caught up in the excitement of the evening that they didn't immediately notice the doors opening to allow more people into the large room. 

At long last, Pedro, Jessie, and Clint were at the head of the line. Pedro insisted that Jessie go before him, so Clint stayed at Pedro's side and translated what Jessie and Santa talked about. In a move that didn't surprise Clint at all, Jessie asked for nothing for herself. Instead, she wanted Santa to make sure that her parents were happy and that her friends got everything they asked for. The smile on her face when she climbed out of Santa's lap clutching her two gifts to her chest was the most brilliant thing in the room. Warmth blossomed in Clint's chest and he made a mental note to ask a few questions when he had the chance. Then Pedro was moving toward Santa's chair, pulling Clint after him eagerly.

Happy gave Clint a questioning look before reaching out to help Pedro into his lap. When he started talking, the fake beard obscured most of his words, prompting the boy to turn to look at Clint for help. Clint made sure to sign what he said to Santa, even as he spoke the words to the other man. "Pedro can't hear you, Santa. So I'm going to translate what you and he have to say to one another. Cool?" 

Santa gave a nod of his head to let both Clint and Pedro know that he had no problems. Then he launched into the same script he'd used with everyone else and asked Pedro's name. Thus began the back and forth between them. Clint's fingers flew the whole time, signing everything that was said so that Pedro didn't miss anything. He was aware of the collective stare of each of his teammates resting heavy on him as he told Santa that Pedro wanted him to bring his parents money to help with the bills because his illness was making it hard on them. Clint had been hearing a lot of that over the course of the night. 

When Pedro was finished and had been handed his gifts, he slid out of Santa's lap with a hastily signed "Thank you!" and a large grin. Another child moved in to take Pedro's place as soon as the three of them stepped out of the way. Jessie was looking at Clint as if the sun shone out of his ass, something that would have normally made him uncomfortable. Just this once, for this night, he could deal. 

Now that they both had gifts, the two of them found empty seats and began ripping the paper away to see what Santa had brought them. Clint stood off to the side and watched them, his senses absently tracking the movement of people around him. He knew the moment a pair of bodies came to a stop just beside him and turned to spare them a look. He was expecting Coulson and Natasha. He was surprised to find a man and a woman standing there, watching him expectantly. 

The three of them stared at one another for a few moments, then the woman's fingers began moving rapidly. She barely introduced herself as Pedro's mother before she launched into her thanks for bringing her son out of his shell. The hint of tears glistened in the corners of her eyes. Her smile was broad and bright. The moment she came to a flustered halt, Pedro's father took up in her place. The man's hands moved so fast that Clint barely had time to get a word in. And then Pedro was sandwiched between the three of them, a really cool remote control car held in one hand. The boy was all smiles as he tried to tell his parents about his night and tell Clint about his parents. 

It took a while, but he was finally able to pull away from Ernesto and Juanita Garcia and leave them with their son. A quick scan around the room showed that Jessie was sitting in a chair near a tired looking woman wearing an exhausted smile. There was a stuffed horse in Jessie's hand and a careful expression on her face that suggested she was trying to handle the older woman. Clint was sure she was Jessie's mother because they had the same color eyes and a similar facial structures. Pleased to see her with someone who cared about her, he started across the floor to where Phil stood against one wall. 

"Those kids had a great time with you," Phil said as Clint came to a halt beside him. Clint grinned and made waving motion with one hand, as if to erase what had happened. Phil took hold of his hand and gave his fingers a warning squeeze. "Don't you dare say it was nothing. It was very definitely something. That little girl is taken with you. And that boy would have sulked in the corner all night if not for your ability to sign." 

"It really was nothing, Phil," Clint shrugged. His response earned him a gentle smack to the back of the head. 

"If you want Christmas sex, you won't say anymore," Phil warned. Clint grinned but kept his comments to himself. Phil's smirk was knowing. "Smart move. I know how cranky you get when you don't get to have Christmas sex." 

"I'm always cranky." 

Phil huffed out a laugh, then leaned to the side just far enough to bump his arm against Clint's. The silence that fell between them was easy and uncomplicated. Much like their relationship. At least most of the time. They watched the children playing with their new toys and chatting with their parents. Tony and Pepper were in a corner with a hospital official, giving Clint the feeling that they were talking about possible donations and funding for the hospital. Bruce was with the same person Clint had seen him with before, and Thor, Jane, and Natasha were chatting with one another, nibbling at the cookies the hospital had supplied. Steve was standing alone, looking tense and anxious. Clint barely had time to wonder about that before the doors to the playroom opened one last time to admit a boy in a wheel chair. He was being pushed by a young woman with dark hair while a tall man walked behind them. 

The boy was the same one from the film, the one who had said he wanted to grow up to be an Avenger. Jimmy looked even smaller in person than he had in the recorded image. He looked like he shouldn't be out of bed, but there was a fierce determination glowing in his eyes as he stared at Steve. His mouth was pulled up in a big, broad smile at the sight of his hero. Behind him, his mother smiled and quietly blinked tears from her eyes. "Look, Mom! Its really him! Its really Captain America!"

The room was silent when Jimmy's wheel chair came to a halt before Steve. The little boy had to tip his head back so that he could see all of Steve, which prompted Clint's teammate to go down on one knee before his biggest fan. "Hi, Jimmy. I hear you're a big fan," Steve said and offered his hand. Jimmy put his hand in Steve's and gave a vigorous shake. His hand was so much smaller than Steve's but that didn't stop him from making Steve's whole arm shift up and down when he shook it.

"I'm your biggest fan!" the little boy exclaimed. There was all the honesty a five year old could muster laced into those four words. "I can't believe you're here!" 

Steve's smile grew. "Well, when I found out you were my biggest fan and all you wanted for Christmas was to meet me, I wanted to come down here and meet you." 

The two of them spoke at length, Steve asking Jimmy questions about his favorite things. There was talk of school and sports. There was talk about what it would take for Jimmy to make the Avengers when he was older and feeling better. Clint's sharp gaze saw the sorrow clinging to his parents, telling him everything he needed to know about the boy's condition. A glance toward Tony and Pepper saw that their heads were bent together and Pepper was busy writing things down as Tony talked. Clint suspected that this conversation was centered around the little boy currently telling his most favorite hero about the puppy his parents had gotten him. 

As Steve and Jimmy delved deeper into their chat, talk picked up between the other parents and their children. A natural rhythm rose and fell as the different voices spoke. Clint stayed at his spot on the wall and just listened to it all, taking in every last broad smile. Mentally recording the bright and shining eyes that filled the room. There was shredded paper everywhere. Kids playing with toys while their parents looked on and sipped at beverages provided by the hospital. Nurses and doctors mixed with everyone else, taking a break from the seriousness of their jobs to find joy in the happiness around them. It was a good night. Much better than any charity event and Clint's Avengers gear was a suit he was much more comfortable in. 

Finally, their Santa made one last appearance. Happy had slipped out earlier after a quick word with Tony, shortly before Jimmy had arrived to meet Steve. The bag on Santa's shoulder hung in such a way that there could only be one thing in it. Clint watched as Santa 'ho-ho-ho'ed' his way through the crowd to Jimmy's side. There was a quick exchange between Santa and the boy, then Santa was pulling a smaller version of Steve's shield from his bag. Even from across the room, Clint could see that it wasn't a plastic toy from the store. That made Clint wonder where it had come from. Especially when Santa put it in Jimmy's hands and he had to grip it tight with both of them.

"My own shield?" Jimmy asked. His eyes were wide as he stared at it. "It looks just like yours, Cap!"

"Yes, it does. That's because you're officially an Avenger now, Jimmy," Steve told his fan. The smile that spread across Jimmy's face was priceless. 

"Would it be alright if I took a picture with Jimmy, ma'am?" Steve asked Jimmy's mother. 

Her gaze slid from Steve to where Jimmy sat in his wheel chair. The boy was practically vibrating out of his seat in anticipation. She smiled at him before looking up at Steve again. "Of course. I think that would be wonderful."

There was some consideration put into how the picture would be taken. Steve tried to just stand behind Jimmy's wheel chair, but the boy was having none of it. He insisted that he wanted to stand on his own two feet, but it was obvious that he wouldn't be able to do that and hold the shield at the same time. So a compromise was made. Steve picked the boy up and basically had Jimmy sitting on his forearm. Jimmy was twisted toward the camera, both hands tightly at his shield. Steve's other hand held his own shield and the hospital's photographer, who had been snapping polaroids all night, moved forward to take a picture of Steve and Jimmy together. At the same time, Pepper was there with her phone to take a second picture. 

"I'll have a framed copy sent to you tomorrow morning," Pepper told Jimmy's parents as Steve settled the little boy back into his wheel chair.

"Thank you," Jimmy's father said, voice choked with emotion.

It wasn't much longer after that that Jimmy's mother rolled him out of the room. It was plain to see on the boy's face that he was worn out, excitement and his illness sapping him of energy. He and Steve bid each other a good night and Steve promised that he'd come see Jimmy in a couple days, once he'd rested up and gotten his strength back. A glance around the room showed Clint that many of the children were suffering the same fate. Excitement had given way to exhaustion and they were starting to droop. Parents started filing out of the room after having the children deliver a round of thanks to the Avengers for making their Christmas amazing and special. In less than half an hour, nearly all of the children were gone. 

The tired looking woman came up to him with Jessie in tow and offered him a smile that was a shade less tired than she looked. Clint smiled back before looking at Jessie. She was wilting at the edges, obviously as worn out as everyone else. "Did you have a good time tonight, Jessie?" 

"Yup," she replied through a wide yawn. "Momma wanted me to come over and say thank you for spending time with me." 

"Well, you're welcome. And it was my pleasure. I hope it wouldn't be out of line to come visit again?" Clint posed the question to Jessie's mother. 

"That would be lovely, Mister..." she trailed off, her cheeks coloring with a hint of pink. "I'm sorry. I don't think I know your last name." 

"Its Barton. But Clint is just fine," he told her. She nodded and made as if she was going to hug them, then seemed to think better of it and held out her hand toward him. He smiled at her and shook her hand briefly, then let it go. "There. Now that we've met one another, you can give me a hug and it won't be weird." 

His words drew a soft laugh from her before she tossed her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. Jessie did the same thing, her arms circling his legs from the side. "Thank you for talking to my daughter tonight, Mr. Barton. You can't know just how much I appreciate it. All of it." One hand motioned to everyone else who had come to the hospital tonight. 

"There really wasn't any other place we wanted to be," Clint assured her. Then he squatted down so he was eye level with Jessie. "You be good for your mom. Don't give her any trouble. And don't forget that you have to get well so I can teach you how to shoot bow and arrow." 

"I won't! I'll get better! I promise." Jessie tossed herself at Clint and hugged him once again, this time as tightly as she could manage. When she pulled back, he stood and ruffled her hair with one hand. 

"Good girl. Now off to bed. You won't get better if you don't sleep." 

"Thank you, Mr. Barton. You helped make my day brighter, too." Jessie's mother looked less tired and more joyful as she turned away from Clint in order to herd her daughter toward the door. Pedro and his parents where there to offer their thanks once again. Pedro looked like a completely different child than the one Clint had first met. And his parents were obviously relieved to find that there was someone there they could converse with. After saying thank you and good night, and delivering hugs, the three of them headed for the door. Phil bumped him with his hip, bringing Clint's attention to the other man. Phil's smile was sappy. 

"Your fan club is getting bigger by the minute. Should I be worried about my place in your life?" 

"Stop being such a dick, Phil," Clint replied. Phil chuckled softly and leaned into Clint a little. Together, the two of them watched as Tony, Pepper, Steve, and Bruce moved in on Fiona Stevens and the one doctor still remaining. No doubt they were discussing health and care and what the hospital needed to help the children. "Do you think they'll make it?"

Clint knew it was a silly question, the kind of thing a young child would ask. He knew that it wasn't a cut and dry type of situation, that this was the type of place that Life and Death walked together up and down the halls and divided the children up between them. That didn't stop him from asking the question anyway, because he needed to be a kid again. Just for a little bit. Because it was Christmas and he needed to know that happy endings were still real. But Phil heaved a heavy sigh. "I don't know, Clint. I wish I could tell you. I just don't know." 

Clint nodded and cast his gaze to the broad windows, where snow fell in thick, fat, heavy flakes. It was Christmas and it was snowing. The criminals and villains had taken the holidays off. It would be nice if Death could do the same thing. For just a little while.

**~*~**

"So what was all that back there, Clint?" Tony's voice broke into Clint's thoughts. He looked up to find that almost everyone in the limo was looking at him. Tony's hands were moving through the motions of the sign for Clint's name.

"American Sign Language. You're smart enough to know that," Clint replied. There was a touch of sarcasm in his voice that prompted Tony to roll his eyes at Clint. 

"Of course I know that. What I don't know is why you know American Sign Language." 

"You mean to tell me that you don't know?" Clint asked and if he sounded a little bit surprised, no one commented on it. "We all know you've dug as deep into our backgrounds as you possibly could. Either you didn't dig very deeply into mine or you didn't read what you found."

"I told Jarvis to block Tony's access to your personal histories, Clint. I didn't think he had any right digging into your lives without your permission. Its rude and he should really know better," Pepper told him, bringing a frown to Tony's face. 

"That was mean, Pepper. How am I supposed to know the people I'm teaming up with if I don't..." Tony began, only to trail off when Pepper turned a look his way that would see the villain of the week cringing back from her. 

"You can ask, Tony. Like normal people do. Have you ever stopped and considered that maybe Clint doesn't want to talk about it?" It was plain from the expression Tony wore that he hadn't considered that at all. 

"Its okay, Pepper. I don't mind," Clint said. She turned a skeptical look his way, but relaxed when she saw he was telling the truth. She smiled at him before giving Tony a blistering look that warned him she would do horrible things if he didn't start acting more human. Clint held on to his chuckle and shrugged a shoulder when Tony shifted his attention Clint's way once again. "Its no big deal. I had to learn sign language a long time ago because I lost my hearing for a while." 

"That's no big deal?" Steve questioned. Clint shrugged again. 

"I adapted to my surroundings. I'm good at that." He said it simply, as if that was all there was to it. Of course that wasn't all there was to it. But he wasn't going to get into various aspects of his personal life with everyone just yet. He hadn't even really discussed it in depth with Phil. There was no way he was getting into that story with everyone before he told it to the man he was going to marry.

Stark gave him a look that said he knew there was more to the story that Clint didn't want to talk about. That same look said that Tony was going to dig deep until he found out exactly what that story was. Clint stared him down while signing three simple words at Tony. To everyone's surprise, Bruce burst out laughing.

Tony focused on Bruce. "What's so funny? What did he say?" 

Bruce only laughed harder.

Phil looked at Clint. "What did you say?" 

Clint grinned at him. "Remember the first thing I said to Fury when I first joined S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Clint had no doubt that Phil recalled that fateful meeting. They'd talked about it many times since. The smirk that spread across Phil's face said he remembered that day vividly. To be fair, it was hard to forget. Clint had been a mouthy, sarcastic shit that day. And after having his ass reamed by Fury, he'd called the man a dick to his face. It had actually been the start of a really great friendship.

"Show me that sign again?" Phil asked. Clint obliged, making each part of the sentence slowly until Phil had it memorized. When Phil put all of the parts together and signed out the whole sentence, Bruce started laughing again. Tony looked very put out by the whole thing. They were annoying Tony again. One of Clint's favorite things to do. Phil glanced at Tony and smirked. "The look on his face is priceless."

"I know how we can make it even more priceless," Clint grinned before shooting a look across the limo at Tony. Phil lifted a brow at him, prompting Clint to move in for a kiss. Their lips had barely touched when Tony started making noise.

"Can't you wait with that until you're in the privacy of your own room? After all, its Christmas. Be considerate of your fellow passengers!" Tony's protest was right on time. Clint didn't pull away from Phil, but he did offer Tony a hand gesture he was sure the other man knew. He left his middle finger standing up for a few moments just to get his point across. Stark snorted to let Clint know that his feelings were hurt. 

Clint didn't care. Tony Stark could be a dick all he wanted. It was Christmas and Clint was going to spend it kissing Phil. Merry Christmas to him.


End file.
